


Buttons the Ghost Dog

by littlemouseinapartyhat



Category: Ghosts (TV 2019)
Genre: And also Buttons the Ghost Dog, Can read patcap in certain chapters, Gen, Just generally the ghosts hanging out with a dog, The Captain is Autistic (Ghosts TV 2019), Thomas is also neurodivergent, but just close friends, of some kind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-19 07:22:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29746989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlemouseinapartyhat/pseuds/littlemouseinapartyhat
Summary: A new resident arrives in the garden of Button House and makes quite the impression.***Based on a prompt to give Pat and ghost dog so he can just love it and give it cuddles.
Relationships: Alison/Mike (Ghosts TV 2019)
Comments: 26
Kudos: 60





	1. No soldier left behind

**Author's Note:**

> I’m reminded of Orla from Derry Girls every time I say ghost dog, I just hear it in her voice. But yes, enjoy Buttons I hope he brings you much joy.  
> Any comments are really appreciated!!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Where’s Patrick?” The Captain glanced around the group and noted the absence of Pat’s ever positive attitude.
> 
> “I’m here!” Pat called as he jogged into the common room. “What’s tickled you lot?”
> 
> “Seems we have a new resident, Patrick,” The Captain turned to Pat, revealing the overexcited retriever in his arms.

“Ooh! Ooh, ooh ah!” Robin shouted. Rushing down the driveway with his usual high-knee, hunched over jog, he waved his hands dramatically to grab Alison’s attention. “Dog! Dog in garden!”

“Are Barclay’s dogs here again? They ruined the lawn last time!” Alison groaned as she thought back to the various degrees of chaos ‘the bitches’ regularly unleashed on the house: digging up the flowers, stealing her shoes from inside the house, not to mention the introduction they provided to the Beg-Chetwyndes.

“No! New dog! Come, come!” Robin waved her over and began to run towards the garden again, with Alison hot on his heels. Robin had left with the Captain on his morning run over two minutes ago, much to the Captain’s admonishment (“Now, stand down, Robin!” He’d ordered, jabbing his swagger stick at Robin’s chest.) 

“What are you-“ Alison yelled out as she ran. “Robin! Where are we going?!” She stopped dead to appreciate her unfolding view of The Captain. He was hopping between legs trying his best to avoid a large golden retriever trying its very best to rub its furry head against the Captain’s pristine uniform. Robin and Alison’s arrival prompted the Captain to glance up, lips tight and eyebrows pinched.

“Ah Alison!” He commanded. “I demand you tell this animal to desist! I am an officer in his Majesty’s armed forces, I insist on respect.” He gripped his swagger stick, his knuckles turning white, and glared down at the dog, who in return sat smiling up at the Captain, panting lightly. Alison crouched in the grass, smiling at the dog and reached out to pet his golden head. 

“It’s just a dog, calm down Cap. It’s not going to hurt-“ Her hand disappeared straight into the golden fur and fell cold. Shuffling away from Alison’s uncomfortable touch, the dog made a strained whining noise and glowered at Alison. 

“But that’s impossible!” Alison snapped her hand back from the dog and stepped away from the dog’s fearful, wide-eyed gaze. Exchanging a glance with the Captain, Robin knelt beside the animal and reached out, running his calloused hands over it’s fur.

“Good Lord!” The Captain exclaimed. 

“Ooooh! You good boy!” Robin patted the dog roughly and played with his long fur. “You dead good boy! You live here now?”

“What happens now then?” Alison asked the Captain as the dog rolled over with his little legs waving in the air, writhing under Robin’s rubbing of its tummy. He was still making cooing noises at the animal and laughing at its antics.

“No soldier left behind, Alison,” The Captain sighed. 

“Civilian translation please?” Alison asked.

“The dead stick together, Alison, and he’s one of us now. We take him in and care for him, for as long as he is with us,” The Captain explained, gazing down at the dog. If Alison didn’t know better, she’d assume his look was filled with affection for the animal. Unfortunately, she was rather acquainted with the Captain and knew he would have little regard for such trivial matters. If the dog couldn’t win us the war, it wasn’t important. 

“Come now,” The Captain shifted Robin away from the dog and tapped the animal on the side. “Heel! We’re going to the house, yes?”

***

“Oh Alison, he’s so lovely!” Kitty cried, jostling the Captain while she buried her face in the retriever’s silky fur. The Captain had carried the dog into the house over his shoulder after the dog had given up on walking in favour of rolling in the dirt in the flowerbed. As soon as they arrived, the other ghosts swarmed around them like streetcats around a pedigree. 

“He is rather beautiful, I must admit,” Fanny said gently petting his fur. “Not a patch on Dante, but sweet nonetheless.”

“Ooh! Gorgeous dog!” Humphrey called from his position under the piano. “I would give him a stroke, if- you know, I had control of the hands.”

“Where’s Patrick?” The Captain glanced around the group and noted the absence of Pat’s ever positive attitude.

“I’m here!” Pat called as he jogged into the common room. “What’s tickled you lot?”

“Seems we have a new resident, Patrick,” The Captain turned to Pat, revealing the overexcited retriever in his arms. 

Silence fell across the room as everyone’s gaze rested on Pat in the doorway. He crossed the floor and bent down with the Captain as he dropped the dog to the floor. Pat’s trembling hand reached out to toward the dog, hardly believing his wildest dreams were coming true. Beside his son and his wife, his beloved labrador Bella had been what he had missed most from life. He’d missed the seemingly endless countryside walks he’d take her on, just him and his girl strolling in the golden light of a Northern sunset. He’d missed curling up with the family in front of the telly, Bella resting peacefully at his feet. He’d missed sneaking Bella into his double bed on the lonely mornings that Carol hadn’t come back from nights out with “friends”.

His stubby fingers made contact with the soft fluff of the dog’s left ear. The animal had been watching him intensely as he reached towards him but, as soon as he made contact, the dog went mad. He dove towards Pat and snuffled his little wet nose into Pat’s neck.

“Hello, you!” Pat giggled. He rubbed the dog’s long golden fur, pressing kisses into its ears. “Aren’t you just lovely?”

“Cap and Robin found him in the garden, no idea where he came from,” Alison said. “Suppose he’s ours now.”

“What’s his name?” Pat asked perching cross-legged on the floor; the dog clambered up into Pat’s lap and snuggled closer to his chest.

“Don’t have one,” Robin said. “No name. We name him Lunah, yes?”

“Oh but he should be named Alison!” Thomas cried, clutching his hands over his chest. “In homage to the head of our little family here!”

“Oh I agree! A beautiful name!” Kitty smiled.

“He’s a boy, guys!” Pat said, giving the dog another kiss. “He needs a nice boys name.”

“Joseph! A Godly name,” Mary suggested.

“Ooh I like Joseph too!” Humphrey called. “If anyone cares.”

“Thatcher,” Julian had thus far not even acknowledged the dog. He’d sat cold and distanced in an armchair scowling at the animal.

“Overruled,” Alison said. “For obvious reasons.”

“What about Scout?” Pat held the dog’s face between his hands and directed his question more towards him than his fellow ghosts, as if the retriever were to make his own decision.

“Afraid not, Patrick,” the Captain said, leaning back against the windowsill. “You shouldn’t impress your profession on the animal.”

“If not Thatcher, may I suggest Major?” Julian interjected with a smirk. 

“An, yes- an appropriately strong name, I concur Julian,” The Captain stuttered. 

“What happened to no self-indulgence, huh Cap?” Pat snuffled into the dog’s fur and giggled as the retriever licked at his face.

“Buttons,” Fanny said. “An obvious solution, really. In homage to the family and heritage of the property.”

“And because he’s already pushing my buttons,” Julian snarked.

“What do you think, huh?” Pat asked the dog, ruffling his ears. “Do you like that, Buttons?” The dog gave a wide lick to Pat’s face and barked softly. 

“Have we got a name yet?” Mike called from the kitchen, having decided to stay well away from the chaos. 

“Buttons!” Alison yelled back. Wringing a tea towel in his hands, Mike appeared in the doorway and looked down towards where he believed Buttons to be - a solid six feet from where he actually was. 

“Welcome to Button House, buddy!” He said to thin air.


	2. Teamwork makes the dream work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What d’ya think he can smell?” Pat asked, gesturing to Buttons as he darted off into the undergrowth.
> 
> “A fox, or perhaps a rabbit, I suppose,” the Captain answered simply, relishing in the silence of the evening.
> 
> Pat hummed. He glanced up at the Captain’s serious glare and took in his ramrod posture, hands clenched behind his back around his stick: turning it over repeatedly in an anxious tic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a note: I don’t generally write non-canon ships,, idk why just don’t. But if you wanna read this as Patcap then go ahead,, but if you want them as just close friends then that’s here too. Also Cap’s autistic, I don’t make the rules. Drink some water, dance in the rain, have a good day :P

The sun was beginning to set on Buttons’ first day in the afterlife and he seemed to have taken the changes rather well. He’d spent much of the day trying to snuffle his nose under the corner of the fireside rug, pawing at it and whining dramatically when he couldn’t lift it. Each cry was met with a huff from Julian who seemed so determined to express his disdain for the dog, he insisted on sitting in the same room as him and groaning rather than just leaving the poor animal alone. 

Thomas had taken a similar approach in sighing around the house. Nudging his nose into Thomas’ knee, it appeared that Buttons was picking up on the poet’s agitation. 

Pat had quickly gotten sick of Julian’s complaining and Thomas’ dramatics and called Buttons out for a walk in the sunset. Under the guise of a nightly patrol, he had also dragged the Captain out with them to break him from his pensive pacing. The Captain always stressed when a new ghost arrived and either hid himself away in the attic rooms or took a controlling presence over the new kid.

When Pat had died, the Captain had hid: run away to his bedroom and avoided the world. It had been four days before Pat had even seen the mysterious war captain of which the other ghosts had spoken. At first Pat had assumed the Captain was like a petulant child, upset he was no longer the youngest and most deserving of attention. But, upon meeting him, Pat quickly chalked it up to the overwhelming anxiety hidden not far below the Captain’s commanding exterior. 

Pat had seen this “new ghost emotion” in full force when Julian unexpectedly passed on. The Captain spent days following Julian around like an overbearing parent, disciplining him for every minuscule mistake he made when still reeling from death. 

With Buttons, however, the Captain was swinging wildly between his two moods with the grace of a drugged up metronome. So dragging him out of his own head was paramount to Pat. 

The pair walked quietly into the edge of the forest with Buttons dashing on ahead, nose to the ground. The usually downtrodden path was littered with burnt amber leaves that Pat couldn’t help but be disappointed in due to the lack of satisfying crunch. 

“What d’ya think he can smell?” Pat asked, gesturing to Buttons as he darted off into the undergrowth. 

“A fox, or perhaps a rabbit, I suppose,” the Captain answered simply, relishing in the silence of the evening. 

Pat hummed. He glanced up at the Captain’s serious glare and took in his ramrod posture, hands clenched behind his back around his stick: turning it over repeatedly in an anxious tic. 

“Buttons!” Pat called into the blanket of trees. “Buttons, love! Come!” He tried not to raise his voice too high as not to agitate the Captain any further than necessary but loud enough to catch the retriever’s attention. Buttons’ little head appeared from under the shrubbery and he set his doe eyes on Pat, eliciting a huff of laughter from both men. 

A breeze rustled through the woods causing a confetti of leaves to swirl around the ghosts, which Buttons immediately ran to catch. 

“I wish I could throw a branch or something for him,” Pat confessed. “I used to have a dog, Bella. Beautiful girl, she loved to fetch sticks for me when we were out in the country.”

“I suppose that’s not really possible now,” the Captain muttered. “For you or him.” 

Pat sighed. He tried to stay positive through out the day but, occasionally, just the smallest reminder of what normal life was like could upset him. The Captain clocked the fall of Pat’s face and glanced at the swagger stick clenched in his fists. He turned it over thoughtfully and then held it out for Pat with a nervous smile. 

“Throw,” he stated. Pat was well aware the Captain never allowed anyone to touch his belongings, especially not his beloved swagger stick, and so held his hand hesitantly over the soldier’s possession. “Don’t look so concerned, Patrick. Throw it for... for the dog.”

Pat carefully took the stick and smiled at it in his hands before waving it at Buttons. The stick whizzed past the Captain’s ear as Pat let go, grinning at Buttons who darted after it, tail spinning wildly behind him. 

“Better?” The Captain asked. 

“Much!” Pat smiled brightly up at him, interrupted by Buttons returning with the stick hanging from his mouth. Bending down to grab it again he spoke quietly to the Captain: “Are you okay?”

Silence crossed between them. 

“I mean about Buttons,” Pat clarified. “Change is difficult for everyone but he’s very sweet and I think-“

“I’m fine,” the Captain said stiffly, made anxious by the lack of his usual swagger stick to grip. 

“I know,” Pat said, throwing once again. “I’m just saying, I know it can be overwhelming and sometimes in overwhelming situations we want to run away or get upset or bottled it all up or whatever, you know? But we can work together to make sure everything’s alright. Teamwork makes the dream work, yeah?” 

“As you always say,” the Captain muttered. 

“But you get what I’m saying, right?” Pat stopped and caught the Captain’s elbow, drawing him to an abrupt halt as well. The wind swirled around them once more, the cold air prickling at their ghostly forms. Buttons pushed his way between the two of them with the Captain’s stick clenched between his tiny teeth, Pat giggled. 

“You wanna go back in, buddy?” Pat leant down to pet him softly and took the stick from him. “Thanks for letting him play with it.”

“Oh, well-,” the Captain stammered. “Yes well, ah. He seemed to rather enjoy himself.”

The three turned to begin the slow meander back towards the house but before they’d even taken two steps the Captain spoke into the cold night. 

“I do understand, Patrick,” he whispered. “Thank you.”


	3. Leave me to my sorrows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Standing in the long grass with the water lapping around his paws, Buttons barked sharply and began to wade deeper into the lake.
> 
> “Leave me be, animal,” Thomas called. “Leave me to my sorrows!” He dropped his face back below the surface and sighed dramatically, crossing his arms over his chest under the murky water.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was very tired when writing this so I hope it’s semi-decent. Enjoy :)

“Why must you insist on following me everywhere?” Thomas cried, lifting his mouth above the waterline, not creating even the slightest ripple, and shouting towards the shoreline. “Can I not have even a moment alone?” 

Standing in the long grass with the water lapping around his paws, Buttons barked sharply and began to wade deeper into the lake.

“Leave me be, animal,” Thomas called. “Leave me to my sorrows!” He dropped his face back below the surface and sighed dramatically, crossing his arms over his chest under the murky water. 

He had marched dramatically out to the gardens when arguments had broken out earlier that morning. Julian had strained to change the TV from the Captain’s ‘Secrets of Nazi Germany’ to a rerun of Newsnight, bringing about the usual level of chaos Button House was used to. 

Already agitated by the dog’s presence and upset by the fighting, Thomas sought to hide himself away, time alone to gather his thoughts. For as much as Thomas was glad to not be haunting alone, he often felt himself getting overwhelmed by his undead friends and their huge personalities. The walls of the manor house closed in when the ghosts began to shout; the air became thick in his lungs when they all fought. Every light too bright, every voice too loud, every touch just too overwhelming. 

So there he sat, up to his eyes in the dark and grimy lake hoping the nauseous pressure of the deep water would calm him down. He glared at Buttons on the shore, who glared back. 

The dog hesitated in the shallows. He lifted his paws out of the water one by one, not understanding the dynamics of his ghostly body, and whined softly before leaping head first into the depths. 

As soon as Buttons reached Thomas with his tiny doggie-paddle strokes, he pushed his wet nose into Thomas’ face, nuzzling at his cheek. 

“Do not try to be friendly with me now, sir,” Thomas grumbled, pushing the retriever back towards the reeds. “You have disrupted my sighing far too many times for us to be acquaintances!” Buttons did not seem to care for Thomas’ opinion on their strained relationship and cuddled into his neck. 

Thomas sighed and gave in momentarily, threading his long, bony fingers into Buttons’ sandy fur and feeling the anxiety drain from his body. He could practically watch the stress flow away from him and seep into the muddy bed of the lake. Buttons licked a stripe over Thomas cheek causing him to giggle and ruffle the dog’s ears a little. 

“Come now,” Thomas muttered. “We should head back towards the house. I’m sure Pat has sent you to collect me from my emotions.”

Beginning the slow wade back to the shore, Buttons stayed close to his side, walking at his heel once they made it out of the water. 

“Pat has asked you to escort me home, yes?” Thomas peered down at Buttons, who gazed back with his usual vacant, dark-eyed stare - the type of look where you could tell there’s nothing but elevator music behind the eyes. “Look at you, you have never had an intelligent thought in your life, have you, sir?” 

Silence. 

Thomas huffed a laugh while they were still out of view of the house but quickly resumed his dramatic disdain for Buttons. 

“Pat! Your animal has taken to bothering me in the lake,” he announced to the room. Pat swung around from where he was perched on the arm of the sofa, watching Kitty’s rather theatrical demonstration of ballroom dancing. He glanced from Thomas to Buttons sat neatly at his feet and back at Thomas, in time to see him pout and cross his arms. “You’re now delegating your dirty work to the dog, I see?”

“You what, mate?” Pat’s eyebrows furrowed and he adjusted his glasses back up his nose. 

“Sending him to fetch me from the water, yes?”

“Not my doing, Thomas,” Pat said. “I was actually wondering where he got to!” 

Thomas shot an incredulous glare down at Buttons. When everything in the house became too much, Thomas often felt as if he was floating, as if everyone around him was coping so well but his emotions were taking over him. Yet Buttons in the lake with him had dragged him straight back down to Earth. 

Glancing around to check no one was watching and finding the others engrossed in Kitty’s performance again, Thomas smiled and bent to pet Buttons gently on the head. 

“I believe a thank you is in order, boy,” Thomas whispered.


End file.
